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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714641">Fine Art</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989'>OrangeRaven989</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Paint, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Painting, Rare Pairings, Tickling, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:46:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714641</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Annette asks Ignatz to paint her, and she doesn't mean her portrait. It goes about as well as you'd expect.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Ignatz Victor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fine Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OK, so this is equal parts adorable and just silly. But these two deserve to have some kinky fun, all right?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I want you to paint me.”</p>
<p>Ignatz raised an eyebrow.  He wondered if it was a joke, but Annette looked completely serious.  He smiled.  It was strange—as long as they’d been together, almost two years at this point, she’d never wanted him to paint her portrait.  He’d asked a few times, but eventually gave up when his question was always met with a nervous head shake and a timid “no way.”  He just assumed it wasn’t her thing.</p>
<p>“I thought you didn’t want your portrait painted,” he replied.</p>
<p>He trembled just a bit—she was looking at him with earnest eyes and a big smile, and it always set him fluttering when she did that.  How he managed to get her to agree to date him he’d never know, but he’d never stop being grateful that she said yes.  And now here he was, living with her in their modest two-bedroom apartment.  The beautiful, bubbly bundle of sunshine who was unafraid to make a fool of herself in front of people, whose smile could infect an entire room with joy, who was just the sweetest, kindest, most lovable soul he’d ever met in his life.  She was his girlfriend.</p>
<p>Her smile turned to a sly grin.  “I didn’t say I want you to paint my portrait,” she continued.  Then she leaned in close.  “I said I want you to paint <em>me</em>.”</p>
<p>“Um…?”</p>
<p>She chewed her lip, her cheeks reddening somewhat.  “Look,” she said.  “I just finished reading a… <em>romance</em> novel.”  She cleared her throat obtrusively.  “And in it the couple…” she trailed off, her face reddening more and more.  Finally she scrunched her face.  “You know what, forget it.”</p>
<p>Ignatz couldn’t help but chuckle.  “No, come on, tell me,” he said.  His mind was already racing.  Clearly the romance novel in question was a steamy one with a helping of smut.  She pretended not to read such things and he pretended not to know she did, but every once in a while she’d come up to him with an… idea.  And, of course, the two of them being the two of them, they’d often try it and fumble around stupidly and it would be a huge disaster, albeit an often funny disaster, and they’d laugh together and have normal vanilla sex and fall even further in love.  So here she was, with a new idea.</p>
<p>“No, it’s stupid,” she said, lowering her eyes.  “Stuff like this is never actually sexy in real life.”</p>
<p>Ignatz reached out and squeezed her shoulder with a smile.  “Come on, now,” he said.  “You know how much fun we have together when you get creative.”</p>
<p>“Fun?” she repeated, incredulously.  “That candle wax hurt <em>so</em> bad!”  Her blush deepened.  “And we made such a mess of the bedsheets…”</p>
<p>“Annette,” he said, lowering his voice.  “I love your ideas.”  He could feel his own cheeks reddening.  “Look, it’s not like I know what I’m doing, either.  But just the fact that you trust me enough to… you know, experiment… it really means a lot to me.”</p>
<p>“Aw, Iggy…” she said, her smile returning.  She took him into her arms and squeezed.  “Sometimes I really do think you’re the only person crazy enough to put up with me.”</p>
<p>He hugged her back, face entirely flushed now, and pressed a kiss into her forehead.  Then he stepped back, hands still on her shoulders.  “So what’s your idea?”</p>
<p>She perked up.  “Well, I already told you,” she said.  “I… want you to paint me.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “You know, like body paint.”</p>
<p>His breath caught in his throat at the words.  “You mean…”</p>
<p>“I figured,” she said, “that if anyone could make it look good it’d be my artist boyfriend.”  She batted her eyelashes.  “What do you think?”</p>
<p>“But… what do you want me to paint?”</p>
<p>She shrugged.  “I don’t know,” she replied.  “In the… <em>romance</em> novel I read, he painted her to look like a landscape.”  Her cheeks were red again.  “You know… <em>mountains</em> and <em>canyons</em> and stuff…”</p>
<p>Ignatz was sure his heart would stop dead in his chest.  What she was suggesting… was actually kind of thrilling, the more he thought about it.  Painting landscapes was his specialty, after all, and getting to do it on such a… canvas… would be surreal.  Not to mention the idea of his very, very beautiful girlfriend even allowing him to do something like that to her.  There were no words in the world to describe how lucky he knew he was.</p>
<p>Then a thought occurred to him.</p>
<p>“But, Annette… aren’t you really ticklish?”</p>
<p>She bit her lip but didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“Like,” he continued.  “If I were to… paint you,” he said, his breath catching again as he said the words, “I’d need to, you know, use a paintbrush on your… skin.”</p>
<p>She grinned, still biting her lip.  “Well, yeah, that’s what makes it fun.”</p>
<p>He swallowed.  “But I’d need you to keep still.”</p>
<p>“So… maybe you’d have to tie me down?”</p>
<p>As expected, his heart stopped beating in that moment.  This was getting out of hand.  The thought of Annette, bound and naked, spread before him, waiting for him to trace her skin with a paintbrush… he shivered.  Would he even be able to handle it?</p>
<p>Her smile drooped.  “You don’t want to, do you?”</p>
<p>His eyes widened.  “What?” he replied.  “No, of course I… want to.  I’m just, you know, nervous.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” she replied, betraying her own excitement.  “Come on, let’s go into your studio!”</p>
<p>“Wait, now?” he said.  But she had already taken his hand and began leading him toward the second bedroom of the apartment, the one he used as a studio for his painting projects.  Inside hung numerous canvases, all his paintings and photographs, as well as an easel by the window and a table in the center of the room.</p>
<p>She eyed the table.  “That should work,” she said, turning back to him.  “Put down a tarp or something for me to lie on, then tie me to the table legs.”  She flashed that sly grin again.  “That way I won’t be able to mess you up by moving too much.”</p>
<p>His breathing was labored, and all he could do was swallow and nod.  This would probably end in yet another messy disaster, but even if it did she looked so happy.  So thrilled to share something with him like this, something fun.  Especially this, because it was painting.  It was his passion.</p>
<p>He was so unbelievably lucky to have her.</p>
<p>So he found a tarp and covered the tabletop with it.  When he turned around, Annette had stripped off her clothing and stood, quite shyly, naked.  He breathed in sharply.  She was so beautiful, every inch of her.  Her fair, freckled skin, her lovely orange locks, her body… so soft and small, slender yet squishy, the curve of her chest, the line of her stomach, her legs… she was a true work of art.  He stepped aside, speechless, and helped her climb onto the table.  She lay still, her legs hanging over the edge at her knees, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breathing.</p>
<p>He fished around in his desk drawers until he found what he was looking for—lengths of rope.  Returning to her, he gently took her ankle and wrapped the rope around it and the table leg.</p>
<p>“Make it tight,” came her voice from the tabletop.  “I mean, tight enough so that I won’t mess you up.”</p>
<p>Ignatz proceeded carefully, securing her limbs to the table legs tight enough that she couldn’t move much at all but not so tight as to cut off circulation or give her serious injury.  He closed his eyes a moment; this was definitely bound to go wrong, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in the process.  He even cut some pieces of soft material he had lying around and slid it between the rope and her skin for padding.  Finally, he lifted her head and placed a small pillow underneath.</p>
<p>There she was.  A masterpiece created by nature itself, spread before him.  A canvas, waiting to be decorated with his art.  He could feel his entire body trembling.</p>
<p>He had body paint in his supply cabinet—completely unopened.  Claude had bought them for him as a joke gift about a year ago, telling him not to bring too many models over for his sessions.  Funny.  Now he actually had a use for them.  Turning back he set his eyes on his girlfriend once more, who was certainly keenly aware of her situation and was already breathing heavily.  He stepped over and put his hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“This might take a while,” he said.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”</p>
<p>She smiled wide and nodded.</p>
<p>“A-all right then.”</p>
<p>His eyes wandered her body for a moment, trying as hard as possible not to let it distract him from picturing the landscape he would paint.  First he considered the obvious—her breasts would be mountains.  Though they were on the smaller side they were still perky enough that it should look good, especially if he made her ribs into foothills.  Then his eyes traversed the expanse of her stomach, which was mostly flat but with a little bit of curvature just below her navel.</p>
<p>He furrowed his brow.  Her navel.  He’d have to incorporate that somehow; a smooth nub of flesh that protruded a little from the surface of her belly.  It could potentially be a small hill, or perhaps a rock… or something else.  He nodded.  Maybe a little island, if he drew a river through the valley between her breasts.  The river could flow through the grassland that would cover her stomach and split around her navel.  But then the river would need to keep going, and, well, there was only one place it could go.</p>
<p>He swallowed hard.  Yes, he’d have to paint that, too, though he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it.  Or if <em>she</em> would be able to handle it.  But it could be a waterfall, and her thighs could be the continuation of the grassland, with cliffs down the sides.</p>
<p>Yes, that would work.</p>
<p>She squirmed a bit on the table.  “Iggy,” she said, “are you going to start soon?  The anticipation is killing me!”</p>
<p>His ears burned.  “Um, y-yes, I’m just… planning.”</p>
<p>She bit her lip and arched her back the little bit she was able to.  “Ooh, thinking about what you’re going to do to me?”</p>
<p>Now his entire face was burning.  He was <em>not</em> going to be able to get through this if she was going to keep that up.  Slowly he approached her with the paints and set them down on a small end table he’d dragged over.  Then he put a hand on her, gently, at her ribs.  She flinched and sucked in but couldn’t move far.</p>
<p>“I’m going to get started now,” he said.  “If you want me to stop, please, just say so and I’ll untie you.”</p>
<p>She smiled at him, her eyes soft and kind.  “Thank you, Iggy,” she said.  “Don’t be afraid to have fun with this, okay?”</p>
<p>He nodded slowly.  “Okay.”</p>
<p>“I love you.”</p>
<p>His heart jolted, but he replied without hesitating.  “I love you, too, Annie.”  His hand slid upward to her breast, and she inhaled sharply.  “I’m… going to start here, if that’s all right.”</p>
<p>She shivered but gave him a nod.</p>
<p>He didn’t move.  His breathing was beyond ragged.  But he needed to get started.  He wanted to.  Oh, God, did he want to.  So he selected the brush and gently mixed the color he wanted and swallowed hard, again, and got to work.  He gently set his fingers on her breast, wincing at the sharp intake of breath and shiver that coursed through her body.  But she settled, her eyes fluttering closed, and he took the breast into his hand and held it, then brought the paintbrush to her skin.</p>
<p>The second the tip of the brush touched her flesh she jerked, pushing the air out of her lungs through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>“Stay still, Annie,” he mumbled.  “I’m sure it tickles.”</p>
<p>She gasped.  “Ugh, this is gonna be so hard.”</p>
<p>He began gently stroking the brush across her skin, turning her flesh the color of rock, all the while totally unable to block out the sounds of her panting.  This was only the start.  It was only going to get worse from here.  But seeing and hearing her like this was… well, exciting.  Even if it didn’t end up being successful, this was certainly an experience.</p>
<p>Soon he’d covered the entire side of her breast, and he positioned himself to start on the other side.  It would be difficult… he had no way of holding her without smearing the paint.  And also, her chest was rising and falling rapidly.  He needed a way to secure her breast without messing up what he’d already done.  His eyes came to rest on her nipple, and an idea popped into his head.  He glanced down at her and caught her eye… apprehensive, but excited.</p>
<p>As gently as he could he pinched her nipple between his fingers.  She let out the tiniest hint of a moan but otherwise kept herself as still as she could, though she was shaking just a bit.  He slowly pulled upward, stretching her breast taut, before moving in with the paintbrush to get at her unpainted flesh.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Iggy,” she breathed.</p>
<p>He didn’t respond.  There were no words in his mind.  So he just kept to his work, painting the rest of her breast before letting go.  He’d use a lighter color for the mountain’s peak, so he returned to his paints and began to consider the next step.  But then he stopped.  He’d need to do the second layer on her breast to add the right texture, and if he painted her nipple now he wouldn’t be able to use it again to hold her breast taut.  So he’d need to have both breasts finished before beginning to paint her nipples.</p>
<p>He approached her other breast and repeated the process, painting it in its entirety while holding her nipple so that he could reach every side of it, trying his best to ignore the quiet moans coming from her throat.  Her breathing was impossibly heavy, but he kept at it, moving on to her ribs and mixing the color he’d use for the foothills.  He also stopped to consider the river—normally he’d sketch out the lines for something like that, but Annette’s skin wouldn’t be an ideal surface for pencil marks.  And ink, of course, wouldn’t work.  So he’d need to paint the river first, before painting the landscape around it.</p>
<p>He was beginning to mix the colors for the water when he heard her mumbling.</p>
<p>“I’m getting so wet,” she whispered.  “Oh, God, you just started, too… there’s no way I’m going to make it.”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow.  “You’re… getting wet?” he asked, blushing.</p>
<p>She simply nodded.</p>
<p>“Um… can you try not to?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>He chewed his lip.  “Um, that might really… mess up the paint.”</p>
<p>She breathed out a huff of air.  “Iggy,” she said.  “Are you really going to sit there and tug on my boobs like that and then tell me <em>not</em> to get turned on?”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat.  “I mean… I guess it’s not a problem until I start painting there, but… when I do you’ll definitely need to not… um…”</p>
<p>She groaned and squirmed.  “Iggy… are you telling me I’m not allowed to come?”</p>
<p>“N-no, I just… um…”</p>
<p>She was panting.  “Fuck, this is so much hotter than I thought it would be.”</p>
<p>His face was impossibly red, but he smiled.  This was turning out to be quite something.  When the river color was finished he stepped back over to her and set the tip of the paintbrush down between her breasts, prompting more breathy giggles.  Slowly he traced the brush over her ribs toward her sternum, then onto her stomach.  He knew from experience just how ticklish Annette’s tummy was, so he braced himself for a fit of squirming, but it seemed that she was trying as hard as she could to keep still.  At least, at first.  The closer he got to her navel, the more she began to quiver and squeal.  It was adorable, but it was also extremely difficult to keep his lines how he wanted them.  Though, ultimately, making her giggle and squirm and blush and moan was more important than making sure the lines were perfect.  He was slowly beginning to understand that now.</p>
<p>He continued painting her belly, inching closer to her navel with the bend of the river, struggling a bit against her movements which now included arching her back.  When he reached the nub he stopped, glancing over at her and waiting.  She was panting, but she caught his eye and hiccupped, her cheeks a deep red.  He gently began to circle the spot with the brush, leaving a small gap between the edge of the river and the lip of her navel.  Her stomach trembled, and she bit her lip to mute the low squeal coming from her throat.  He detailed the split in the river, which continued on in a diagonal line past her navel but began to bend again toward her center.  Then he returned to fill in the gaps, using a brush with a smaller tip to color the last bit of flesh leading to her navel.  Her hips would not stay still.</p>
<p>“This is unbearable,” she whispered.</p>
<p>He chuckled with a smile but didn’t say anything.  Instead he switched back to the larger brush and returned to the riverbend he’d created, painting the rest of it across her lower belly, getting closer and closer to where he planned to paint the waterfall.  She sucked in air quickly as he drew close, but he stopped.  There was no way he was ready to go off the edge of the cliff yet.  He needed a little more time.</p>
<p>She was shaking, writhing almost, as he looked over his work so far.  Nothing particularly noteworthy yet—just her breasts as mountains without peaks yet and a river cutting across the still-flesh-colored plain of her tummy.  He’d still have to paint her entire stomach as a grassland, which would probably be one of the easier tasks as long as she didn’t squirm too much.  Her nipples would be much harder to do, since he had to be sure he was done painting her breasts first, and her bodily response to that level of stimulation would be difficult to manage.  Then there was the flesh-colored protrusion of her navel, sitting defiantly among the lines of blue that surrounded it.  That would be one of the biggest challenges—he’d need to do that next, since he’d likely have to hold her hips or sides and if he painted them first he’d be out of luck.</p>
<p>Then the waterfall.  He’d figure that out later.</p>
<p>So.  He knew his next task.  He began to mix up the greenish colors he’d need for the island in the stream.  He gulped, knowing just how much resistance he’d face.</p>
<p>“Um…”</p>
<p>She perked up.  “What’s up, Iggy?” she breathed.</p>
<p>“I’m… going to paint your belly button now.”</p>
<p>She whimpered.  “Oh, God… I don’t know if I can take it.”</p>
<p>He grinned.  “You’ll be okay,” he said.  “Just try your best to keep still.”</p>
<p>“Iggy,” she pleaded.  “You have <em>no idea</em> how ticklish I am, do you?”  Her tummy was trembling as her chest heaved.  “And my belly button is, like, ground zero.”  She swallowed.  “This might be how I die.”</p>
<p>“You’re not going to die,” he responded, picking a very fine-tipped brush.  He narrowed his eyes.  He didn’t need to use a brush that small, really.  But part of him wanted her to squirm.  She did tell him to have fun with this, didn’t she?  Here was a perfect opportunity.  He could either get annoyed that she couldn’t keep still, or just lean into it and destroy her with tickle torture.  One of those would be infinitely more enjoyable for both of them.</p>
<p>He leaned over her belly and lowered the brush.</p>
<p>Her back immediately arched, violently, and a groan escaped her lips, followed by an almost choked laugh.  He gripped her hip with his free hand and tried his best to hold her in place, then proceeded to slowly trace the brush across her belly button.  Writhing, she filled the room with her giggles, and despite his best effort he could not keep her from thrashing about.  But he kept at it, teasing the nub of her navel with the brush, tracing circles around it, coloring the flesh to look like a grassy mound amidst a raging river.</p>
<p>Of course, her belly button couldn’t just be a solid green dome.  He needed to add more detail, more texture.  So when he finished coating it with the first layer he stepped back and mixed some new colors.  She was nearly wheezing, sputtering, hiccupping… struggling to catch her breath.  Her tummy still twitched, and the occasional delirious giggle escaped her throat.  She coughed.</p>
<p>“You’re… done with that, right?”</p>
<p>He smiled inwardly.  “No, not yet,” he replied.  “I need an even finer tip to get all the detail painted.”</p>
<p>“No,” she wheezed.  “No, you’re done with that.”  Another cough.  “I… I can’t do that again.”</p>
<p>“Just a little more, Annie,” he said, approaching again.  “It’s going to look so pretty when it’s done.”</p>
<p>He leaned over once more, his eyes glancing down as he did and noticing just how wet she really was.  She was practically dripping.  He bit his lip… he would need to do something about that before painting there.  Well, at least if he did all her most sensitive spots first—navel, nipples, and, well, <em>that—</em>he could trust that painting the surface of her stomach, her ribs, and her legs would be safe to not cause quite as much arousal.</p>
<p>Detailing her belly button proved to be even more difficult, as the fine tip he used—which was actually warranted, this time—apparently felt like he was poking her with a pin.  He learned this from the delirious raspy shouting she spewed at him as he struggled to keep her still.  She squirmed so much he worried that the table would tip over.  Not that that would be a surprise, really.  The truly amazing thing was that they managed to make it this far without disaster striking.  Maybe this was destined for success, after all.</p>
<p>Though clearly Annette, who was in the middle of literally dying laughing from the nonstop tickle torture, had a different definition of “success.”</p>
<p>When the tip of the brush accidentally slipped into the crease between the nub of her navel and the rim he thought she was going to have a heart attack.  When he “accidentally” did it again, he thought she actually did have a heart attack for a moment.</p>
<p>The tears were overflowing by the time he finished with her belly button.  It looked good, the only part that was fully finished, though the price paid was significantly high.  He stepped up beside her head—her brow was coated in sweat, her hair clinging to it, and her face was impossibly red.  She could barely breathe as she looked at him.</p>
<p>“You’re doing such a good job, Annette,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss her lips.  It was a short kiss, and she moaned in frustration when he pulled away.  “Now I’m going to finish off your breasts and paint your nipples.”</p>
<p>Her eyes rolled back in her head as she closed them, leaning back against the pillow and soundlessly mouthing words he couldn’t hear.  But the sound came back when he pinched her nipple again and gently stretched her breast taut.  Moaning, specifically.  Which turned to giggles when he resumed painting, adding detail to the mountain.  Her writhing was more subdued—less ticklish and more sexually aroused.  Ignatz had to admit that it was getting difficult for him to manage his own heat.  At this point, part of him kind of wanted to throw all of this out the window and just take Annette to bed.</p>
<p>But the end result would be worth it.</p>
<p>In the back of his mind he wondered if younger Ignatz would ever believe that this future would be possible for him.  Him.  Ignatz Victor.  The silly art nerd who got bullied all throughout his middle school and high school career.  The kid who kept to himself in college and never partied.  The young man who was awkward in every way, had trouble talking to people, struggled to meet their eyes when he was forced to talk… that Ignatz.  That Ignatz was not only dating Annette Fantine Dominic, the most attractive girl he’d ever known, but was also painting her naked body and driving her near to orgasm in the process.  All while she encouraged him.  He was the luckiest man alive, and he knew it.</p>
<p>When he finished her breasts he pulled back, and her eyes glimmered like she knew what was coming next.  She hadn’t spoken a word in a long while, communicating only with giggles and moans, and she hummed loud when he brought the brush to her nipple.  Already stiff, it perked even more at the light touch of the brush, and Annette let out a groan from deep in her chest.  He carefully decorated her, making sure to coat the whole area and add detail to make it resemble a true mountain peak.  He blew on it to help the paint dry quicker, and a shiver coursed through her entire body.</p>
<p>“I’m…” she squeaked.</p>
<p>“Huh?”  He stepped over to her and leaned in.</p>
<p>Her voice was weak.  “I’m… about to come, Iggy.  Please.”  Her eyes were pleading.  “Please…”</p>
<p>His breathing became ragged again, and he moved to the other end of the table.  She was right—she was dripping onto the table, her lips red and puffy.  He smiled.  It seemed clear that there was no way they’d be able to get through this project after all.</p>
<p>He looked up at her again.  “No chance, huh?” he asked.  “No way you can hold out?”</p>
<p>She shook her head slowly.  “My… arms are a little numb, too.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said.  “Guess we have to stop.”</p>
<p>Her chest rose and fell a few times, her breathing the only sound in the room.  She huffed.  She sighed out, her voice humming through it, whimpering.  She looked so beautiful like that, right on the edge.  He set his hand on her thigh and she whimpered again, her skin so oversensitive at this point that anything could tip her over, into the abyss.</p>
<p>“Don’t untie me yet.”</p>
<p>He furrowed his brow.  “Huh?” he replied.  “I thought you said you were going numb.  I need to loosen it.”</p>
<p>She panted.  “Please… finish me first.”</p>
<p>“Annette, there’s no way you can last that long,” he said.  “I still have so much to paint.”</p>
<p>“No, Iggy…” she breathed, lifting her head.  She nodded downward, toward the waterfall that never was or would be.  “<em>Finish</em> me, please.”</p>
<p>The words crashed against his chest.  He took a deep breath and slowly leaned in, feeling the heat long before he reached her.  She was nearly gushing.  He slid his hands over her thighs, inching closer, smiling at the sound of her practically singing into the studio.  Reaching her slick, wet lips he paused before slowly stroking them with the tips of his fingers.  Her whole body twitched, trembled.  He traced the outline of her entrance with featherlight fingertips, slowly applying just a little force as he reached the top.  She tensed.  Then he reached over and grabbed an unused paintbrush and resumed tracing the lines, teasing her clit with the brush and smiling at the absolutely bestial noises she made.</p>
<p>“F-fuck you, Iggy…” she squealed.  “I swear to God you… better… get on… with it.”</p>
<p>He slid a finger into her, then another, still brushing over her clit.  She squirmed.  Then he leaned in and wrapped his lips around her clit and she clenched hard.  It took almost no time for her to gush into his mouth, and cry of release so loud he feared the downstairs neighbors must have heard.  But he rode it out with her, soothing her, licking her clean, pushing his tongue in deep, bringing her down from the heights she’d reached.  Kissing her once, twice, until she was finally settled.  Then he undid the ropes and let her stretch her limbs.</p>
<p>She could barely move, but she slowly leaned up and looked down at herself.  An unfinished mess.  She giggled, cheeks still pink.</p>
<p>“Well that was a colossal failure, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>He chuckled.  “It was a lot of fun, though.”  He thought a moment.  “And, you know, now I have an idea for a new painting.  A… normal one.”</p>
<p>She smiled at him.  “I can’t wait to see it.”</p>
<p>He nodded.</p>
<p>“Oh, I bet you’re still pent up, huh?”</p>
<p>He coughed.  She was grinning at him, eyebrow raised seductively.  He made the attempt to deny it but she cut him off.</p>
<p>“Come on, Iggy, you were doing all that to me,” she insisted.  “There’s no way you weren’t getting your rocks off.”  She giggled.  “Wanna go to the bedroom?”</p>
<p>He stammered.  “Uh… won’t we… mess up the sheets?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes.  “The shower, then?”</p>
<p>“Um…”</p>
<p>Hopping up off the table, she grabbed his hand.  “Come on, let’s go get me cleaned up,” she said, pulling him out of the studio.  She beamed.  “And do other things, too.”</p>
<p>“A-all right.”</p>
<p>“You know,” she continued, “I really do want you to paint me again sometime.”  She scrunched her nose.  “Just, maybe, something a little smaller and… less sexual.  At first, anyway.”</p>
<p>He smiled as they stepped into the bathroom.  “Yeah, that’ll be fun.”</p>
<p>She turned on the water and stepped into the tub.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away.  Even covered in paint she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  And even though this escapade failed spectacularly just like all the other weird, kinky things they tried, somehow it still brought them closer together.  He stepped into the shower with her, pulled her close, and met her lips with his own.  She tasted so sweet.</p>
<p>He truly was the luckiest man alive.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/OrangeRaven989">OrangeRaven989</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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